


Later Days

by mageswolf



Category: Death Note, Death Note & Related Fandoms
Genre: au where matt survives, because I hate myself, but mello doesn't
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 04:51:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3515993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mageswolf/pseuds/mageswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See, the thing about getting shot a dozen times is you really don’t expect to survive. Because of this, Matt was really quite surprised when he opened his eyes</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is super short, other chapters will be much longer.

See, the thing about getting shot a dozen times is you really don’t expect to survive.

It doesn’t even hurt for that long, because there are twelve sharp pieces of metal in your organs, and no one can last long with that many bullets in them. Or, they shouldn’t be able to. Because of this, Matt was really quite surprised when he opened his eyes to a white ceiling and the gentle beep of a heart monitor.

He attempted to speak, but he found he couldn’t, so he settled for thinking:

_What the fuck?_

The last thing he remembered was, of course, being shot. He really hadn’t thought that they would shoot at him. Damn, they were kind of assholes. Admittedly he had been involved in a plot against the weirdo they worshipped, but still. Matt decided to try and sit up, and felt a jolt of pain run through him. Right. Bullets. Which brought him back to wondering why the hell he was alive, and were exactly he was.

Sitting up more slowly, he looked around the room he was in. Faded paisley wallpaper, green carpeting, cream coloured curtains, oak furniture…… no way. Wammy’s? Yeah, he was definitely at Wammy’s.

Maybe he was dead, though he wasn’t sure if this place would be considered heaven or hell. While he a musing on which theory of the afterlife might result in him being back at the orphanage, the door opened.

“Ah, Mr. Jeevas. You are awake, I see.” Roger. That was Roger.

“Oh wow, I am dead. And in hell, apparently, since you’re here. I thought I was better then that. I mean, aside from the hacking and stealing and gay sex, but have you actually read that bible? Weird shit, man.” Matt said, in one scratchy breath.

Roger stared at him for a moment before replying. “You are certainly not dead, Mr. Jeevas. You are at Wammy’s house, in your old room. Do you remember what happened?” The elderly man said, walking towards the bed.

“Yeah. I got shot multiple times, not easy to forget.” Matt furrowed his brows. “How am I alive, anyway?”

“Near had his men retrieve you. The doctors were barely able to save you, and as it happens you have been in a coma for the past three weeks.”

“Three weeks? Wait, what happened with the case? Did Near catch the guy? And where’s Mello?” Matt said. He tried to lean forwards, but ended up wincing and sitting back again.

Roger took a breath, and walked towards the bed, placing an awkward hand on Matt’s shoulder. “I am afraid that Mello did not survive the Kira case.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. As I stated before this is really just a side project, so I am only updating when the urge strikes me. Anyway, enjoy.

The room was quiet. The heart monitor was still beeping away, and the curtains rustled softly as wind came in through the partially open window. 

It had been two days since Matt had woken up at Wammy’s, and he had not yet left the room, only walked around it a little. He was still pretty sore. Occasionally, Roger would come in and speak with him, though not often. From the newspapers that Roger had brought him, it seemed that the world was still reeling in the aftermath of Kira. Understandable, since the whole ordeal had lasted years, and the cults of Kira worshippers still had to be dealt with, as well as the inevitable copy-cat killers. None of them would even have a fraction of the impact that Light Yagami did, though.

Matt wasn’t sure if Mello would be happy that Yagami was dead, or just pissed that he wasn’t the one to catch Kira. Probably the latter, but Matt found himself mentally changing topics every time Mello crossed his mind. 

Leave it to Mello to blow himself up. Again. 

It wasn’t that Matt was surprised by Mello’s death. Neither of them had much hope of surviving the Kira case in the first place, but he had sort of figured that they would go down together, a guns blazing into the sunset kind of thing. That would have been alright. As prepared as he may have been for dramatic death on both their parts, Matt wasn’t all that sure what to do on his own. 

And he missed Mello, dammit.

Whatever exactly the two of them had been, Matt missed him. Knowing that he would never see him again was like a punch to the gut. Or a bullet. Matt had experience with both. 

However as he was apparently not dead, Matt supposed he had to decide what to do next. It was when he was contemplating this that he heard shuffling and high pitched giggles outside his door. Right. Kids lived here. House full of genius kids, a few were going to notice he was here and come looking. After a few minutes of whispers and giggles from outside, there was the sounds of light footsteps retreating, followed by a soft knocking. 

With a sigh, Matt got up and opened the door. If he didn’t the kid would most likely pick the lock. It was what Matt would have done, as a kid. Or at least followed Mello into doing. 

Matt opened the door, to kind a tiny girl on the other side. White blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin.

“What’ya want.” Matt mumbled, his voice gruff. That was what came of staying inside, smoking and not talking for a week and a half.

The little girl stared up at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. She snapped it shut, and spoke.

“Hey mister, are you L?”

Matt blinked. “What?”

The girls shuffled her feet, looked down, than back up. “Because, like, everyone said that there was this guy in here, and that he wouldn’t come out, and we figured you must be doing somethin’ important but no one would say, and everybody else was too chicken to come find out, so I came.” She said, her voice high pitched and rushed. She stared up at Matt, and Matt stared down at her, and her little eyebrows furrowed.

“So?” She said, crossing her arms.

“Huh?” Matt replied.

She sighed, as if he had missed the most obvious thing in the world. “So, are you L?”

“Um. No. No, I’m definitely not L.” Matt replied, scratching the back of his head.

The girl frowned like he had personally offended her. “Why is it so smelly in here?” The girl asked, her nose wrinkling. 

“Because little kids asking stupid questions generates bad smells.” He replied.

“Stupid, it smells like cigarettes. Why do you smoke in here?”

“Because it’s not as bad as doing cocaine. Do you want something? If you don’t please leave.” Matt said, tapping on the doorframe. 

“Why are you here?” The girl asked, seemingly not put off by Matt’s attitude. 

Matt was quiet for a moment, before answering. “That’s a pretty good question. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Eventually, the little girl had left. Her presence had been useful in one respect-

It had brought Matt’s attention to how much the room smelt. He hadn’t left since he arrived. He was finally healed enough to move around with some semblance of comfort, but he hadn’t done so much as open the window.   
Seemed like a good place to start.

Matt winced, squinting as he drew back the shutters on the big bay window. He had barely opened them living here as a kid, for exactly this reason. He wasn’t a big fan of sunlight. With the window open, a slight breeze entered the room. Sounds filtered up from the courtyard below, joyful shrieks and shouts of the children playing. Matt leaned out slightly, looking out at the activity outside. He purposefully kept his eyes away from the window directly across from his, where Mello’s old room was. He wondered if someone else slept there now, or if it was still littered with chocolate wrappers and paper airplanes covered in notes they had written each other, conversations that they kept having long after they were ushered back to their rooms. 

Before he could continue down that mental path, there was another knock at the door. 

“What?” He yelled, turning towards it. No visitors in two weeks, and now two in a day. What the hell? 

The door creaked opened, revealing a slightly stooped, pale figure behind it.

“Hello, Matt.”


End file.
